At two in the afternoon, Coach Saito stood at midfield with his whistle.
"Three scrimmage matches today," he said. "Thirty minutes each. Teams assigned by current ranking."
He read from his clipboard.
"Team A: ranks one to eleven. Daichi, Jin, Kaito, Haruki, Issei, and six others."
The elite players stepped forward.
"Team B: ranks twelve to eighteen. Yuto, Ren, Takeshi, and four others."
Seven players. Mid tier. Takeshi joined the line, chest tight.
"Team C: ranks nineteen to thirty. Everyone else."
Twelve players including Sato. His hands were shaking.
"Match one at two fifteen, A versus B. Match two at two fifty, B versus C. Match three at three twenty five, A versus C. Match performance weighs heavily in Sunday's ranking."
Saito walked to the sideline where assistant coaches had set up chairs and clipboards.
Team B huddled together.
"We can compete," Ren said, trying to sound confident. "Just stay organized."
Takeshi watched Team A warming up across the field. Daichi's shots went exactly where he aimed them. Top corner. Bottom corner. Crossbar. Mechanical perfection.
Jin juggled the ball while laughing with Haruki, not even watching it bounce from foot to thigh to foot.
This is different, Takeshi thought. Tokyo FC never faced this level.
Across the field, Team C huddled nervously.
"We are going to get destroyed," one player muttered.
Sato tried to sound brave. "We fight anyway."
But his voice cracked.
The whistle blew at two fifteen.
Team B started with possession. Four three three formation. Takeshi in attacking midfield.
For five minutes, it felt manageable. Team B kept the ball, passed carefully, probed for openings.
Team A did not even press hard. They waited in a medium block.
Zero to zero.
Maybe we can do this.
Then minute six came.
Daichi received the ball twenty five yards out. Back to goal. A defender on him.
One touch. He flicked it up, spun away, and struck it before it landed.
Top corner. Perfect curve.
The keeper did not move.
One to zero.
Takeshi stood nearby, stunned. That is the shot I practice. He makes it look easy.
After that, Team A took control.
Jin dropped deep and orchestrated everything. Every time Takeshi pressed, the ball was already gone. Jin's first touch killed passes dead. His second touch put teammates through.
Team B chased shadows.
At minute thirteen, Jin threaded an impossible pass between three defenders. Haruki finished with one touch.
Two to zero.
At minute fifteen, Daichi scored again. Simple tap in, but the buildup was the cruelty. Fifteen passes. Team B never touched the ball.
Three to zero.
Takeshi finally got space at minute eighteen. His adult mind saw it. Jin slightly out of position. Passing lane opening.
Should I use TIME RELAY? Make this count?
He hesitated. No. Save it.
He played the pass without help.
Jin read it instantly, intercepted, launched a counter.
Ten seconds later, Daichi had his hat trick.
Four to zero. Eighteen minutes. Same as against Tokyo FC.
Nothing has changed. I am still not good enough.
The final ten minutes were worse. Team A coasted and still scored twice more.
Final whistle. Six to zero.
Team B walked off in silence.
Takeshi stared at Daichi walking away, already talking about something else. Like the match had not even registered.
Five minutes later, Team B faced Team C.
Now Takeshi's team was superior. Ranks twelve to eighteen against nineteen to thirty.
Team B dominated immediately.
Takeshi found space easily. The players marking him were slower, less aware. He turned them without effort.
At minute twelve, Ren scored. One to zero.
At minute fourteen, Takeshi assisted the second. A simple through ball.
Two to zero.
Sato tried to mark him. Every time Sato committed, Takeshi turned him. Not with flashy moves. Just positioning. Timing. Adult mind.
It was too easy.
And watching Sato scramble and fail, Takeshi felt sick.
I am doing to him what Daichi did to me.
By minute twenty, Team B led four to zero. Takeshi got subbed out.
From the sideline, he watched Team B score a fifth.
Sato was lost. Out of position. Exhausted. Some Team C players had stopped trying. One was crying. Another fouled hard out of anger.
Final score: five to one. Team C scored garbage time.
Sato walked off with his shoulders slumped, face blank.
How do I help him when the gap is this big?
At three twenty five, Team A faced Team C.
Elite versus bottom tier.
Team B sat on the sideline and watched the execution.
Daichi scored at minute two.
Jin scored at minute four.
Haruki scored at minute five.
Three to zero in five minutes.
Team C was already broken.
Sato tried to organize defense. His voice cracked. No one listened.
At minute eight, Daichi scored again. Four to zero.
One Team C player cried openly. Another screamed at a teammate. Another just stood still, staring at nothing.
Sato kept running. Kept trying. But every challenge failed. Every pass got intercepted.
Halftime: six to zero.
Some Team C players refused to stand.
"We cannot just quit," Sato said.
A teammate looked at him with hollow eyes. "Why not? We are getting cut anyway."
Second half was worse. Team A was clearly holding back but still scored. Seven to zero. Eight to zero.
Daichi got subbed out at minute twenty. Hat trick done. He walked off without expression.
Final whistle. Nine to zero.
Some Team C players lay face down on the grass. Others stared at nothing.
Sato stood but barely. Eyes empty.
This is what rank twenty seven means, Takeshi thought. And I am supposed to help him climb from this?
The locker room at four was silent.
Team A was casual. Jin laughed with Haruki. Daichi unlaced his boots slowly. Unaffected.
Team B was quiet. Processing.
Team C was devastation. Some still in uniform. Could not move.
Sato sat in the corner. Still in his kit. Staring at the floor.
Takeshi sat next to him. "Sato."
No response.
"I touched the ball maybe five times total," Sato said finally. Voice dead. "In sixty minutes. How do I improve from that? I cannot even compete."
Ren and Yuto joined them.
Ren started, "One bad day does not..."
"It is not one bad day," Sato cut him off. "It is reality. I am twenty seven because I am actually that bad. Room 304 cannot fix this."
Silence.
What could they say?
From the coach's office window, Saito watched.
"Sato kept running," Nakamura said. "Never quit."
"That counts for something," Saito replied. "Not enough. But something."
In Takeshi's vision, the system appeared.
SATO STATUS: CRITICAL
Match performance: Catastrophic
Probability of survival: 12%
RECOMMENDATION: Reassess strategy
Can you save someone drowning without drowning yourself?
Twelve percent.
At six in the evening, Room 304 sat in darkness.
Dinner untouched. No one had showered. Sato still in training clothes, staring at the wall.
"We need to talk about Sunday," Ren said carefully.
"Statistically, after today..." Yuto started.
"Do not say it," Takeshi interrupted.
Silence.
The pact from last night felt impossible now.
Sato spoke quietly. "You guys should focus on yourselves. I do not want to drag you down."
Takeshi wanted to argue.
But his adult mind whispered: He might be right.
Yuto stared at rankings, finding no encouraging numbers.
Ren's optimism was breaking.
Four outsiders in darkness.
Sunday was four days away.
Hope felt very far.